


where then, where now

by aevium



Category: One Piece
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Gen Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 23:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2600828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aevium/pseuds/aevium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Birthday fic for Zoro 11/11/2014</p><p>"Time skips forward. Tall grass looms, flutters – a thought, he can't wait to outgrow the grass. Who's laugh? Oh. And forward again. Swords in a barrel. Picks one up. Feels like it's taking a glimpse, sizing him up. Hears yelling. Dozes again and sinks."</p>
            </blockquote>





	where then, where now

Endless rice fields.

His hand clasps tightly in a man’s, tottering along, watching the villagers toil. He has broad shoulders, the man leading him, a man who’s worked his entire lifetime here – must have. Wants to grow big and strong like him.

Time skips forward. Tall grass looms, flutters – a thought. A thought that he can’t wait to outgrow the grass. The moment is vivid to him, can still smell the earth. A woman lays next to him in the meadow, taps him tenderly. He turns. She smiles. Then, blackness as a hand rests over his eyes. A laugh. Then two. Who’s laugh?

Oh. Him and her.

And forward again.

Crowds bustling. Stands, merchants yelling, reeling customers in. He lets go of his hand when he sees something. Drawn – he’s drawn. Swords in a barrel. He picks one up, scans it, lifts the guard lightly from the sheath and watches the glimmer of steel. Feels like it’s taking a glimpse, then staring him back, sizing him up, testing him as he uncovers more steel. Sheathes it, finally. Picks up another, then another and another until he nearly topples.

Strong, calloused hands keep him upright, then help him return the swords. They grow smaller in the distance. A feeling, a pang – he doesn’t want to part from them. Knows that he’ll be back again for that stare, that test. Knows that he’ll be old enough to wield plenty someday.

Hears yelling. Luffy, Usopp and Brook. Saying something about dinner.

Dozes again and sinks.

His home – splintered and sunken, flattened by mud. His family buried. Him, alone. Dirty, worn, tired. Hungry.

Determined.

He starts with sticks, then shinai, stolen from the dojo. He shadows that place, his starting ground, battling anyone who dares shoo him away. Wins against all men bigger than him, brings their pride to a knee. Eventually the hand of a captivated teacher extends out to him, and he is taken in. Becomes his student. Faces her, his daughter, the only one he can’t defeat, the only one who rivals his passion. Holds two shinai in tight fists, clenches another in his teeth. Gives himself an identity.

His mind is fogged. Hears more shouting in the distance. Cook is swearing at him as he calls. Eyes fluttering open, then closed.

Skims reality, slips underneath again.

After 2001 defeats, a promise. A death that shakes his foundations and shapes his new future. A boy reborn, handed a white sword to build him anew; reinforce him, ground him, drive him. But the promise doesn’t change.

Shinai upon shinai thwacking that wooden post, the best company he’s got. Years and years of bruises, sores and blood. The boulders grow as he does, bending and squatting under their massive weight. Incense burning, charring down to nubs, streams of delicate smoke. A goodbye, an assertion.

Oceans, docks. Blades gliding against skin, blood erupting from effortless strokes. No man strong enough to take him down. Not anyone, not even the one at the top. And he keeps searching. He won’t stop until he finds that man, clutches that dream and splits the sky in two with her.

“Marimo!”

A deep intake of breath, breaks the surface. Bleary eyes under slit lids, sensitive to light.

“Hn?”

A foot to his chest, painful pressure. Ribs might be groaning with the creaks of the ship.

“Wake the fuck up already! Been callin’ you for ten fucking minutes. I swear, one of these days you’ll slip yourself into a goddamn coma...”

“Huh?” Zoro asks wearily, his mind still blurring past and present.

“For the love of fuck – swear you’ve got too much wax built up in those disgusting ears. _Dinner’s ready_ – shit! You’re infuriating!”

When the pressure on his chest vanishes and the cook marches off, mumbling something about babysitting and algae, Zoro slowly straightens from his slumped position against the wall. He rubs the soreness from his neck and stands. Then he looks out at the ocean from the rear of the Sunny, briefly.

Smiles. Feels satisfied to be where he is. Closer now than ever to having his name heard worldwide. One year closer, one step farther. It’s fast approaching him. He feels it in the air, in the sea, in his blood flesh and bones.

When he steps into the galley, eyes are on him. He tries to keep his smirk a grin at best, avoiding the quandary of a shining smile as they leap towards him, celebration-bound. 


End file.
